


I Ain't Gonna Ask You

by writetheniteaway



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Emotional Abuse, F/M, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:49:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4361975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writetheniteaway/pseuds/writetheniteaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katherine's hurting, Jack's doing all he can to help, and somehow they wind up discussing their future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Ain't Gonna Ask You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pylades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pylades/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY PYLADES

There were days Katherine Plumber would spar with her father from breakfast to past supper time. He’d start his morning blustering over her coffee, sometimes about some frustration or other but usually because she had had the audacity to exist. Every day she was not fired from the _Sun_ was one more day of proving him wrong, and Pulitzer was not a man to take such an insult lightly. Every day she spent with Jack courting her, for he certainly was, whether Pulitzer liked it or not, was another day she steeled her nerves against his commentary, ranging from impolite to deliberately cruel.

Her new found confidence in her abilities and the support of her new family had emboldened her to fight back in her home. A subtle comment under her breath, a bold display of affection in full view of his office, gorilla warfare of the most domestic kind. Katherine knew she was playing a game of Russian roulette with her father’s temper, but for the moment she found herself too euphoric to care. Drunk on fame, on infamy, on freedom, on love, Katherine Plumber had no intention of simply awaiting this new century. She was running towards it full speed, her hands reaching out greedily for the opportunities it could bring.

Katherine Pulitzer however, stilled lived in that house, still had to face meals with those people, and Katherine Plumber making trouble was not making the poor girl’s life any easier. She still flinched when he began one of his tirades, still excused herself in shame, unsuccessfully hiding the childish tears she could never seem to stop from flowing when he set in on her. Her mother’s mouth would shrink to a thin line while her father insulted her work, her behavior, her reputation. No daughter of his would act this way, and it was merely a matter of time until he shouted it loud enough that she accepted it as fact, the way she had all his demands her whole life before.

“Wake up Katherine! Every day you spend with that, that _boy_ is another day your reputation and my good name falls further out of favor. How exactly am I to find you a suitable husband when every man in this city thinks you are some vagrant’s whore?”

The words stung, but it was the truth of their meaning that propelled her out of the door. She ran, skirts held high in a fist at her side, an un-ladylike display, further fodder for the gossip her father so bluntly bludgeoned her with, but at the moment she couldn’t care. Katherine Plumber, star reporter, a renaissance woman of the twentieth century.

Everything Katherine Pulitzer only wished she could be.

Like gravity, or a life preserver, somehow he knows she’s looking for him, and it takes only a few minutes before they’re on the same street. It’s a dependence she ought to be embarrassed by, running tearfully into his arms like a little girl who scraped her knee in the park, but she does not have the strength to scold herself today.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jack’s arms are open, and they are safe and warm and strong and exactly where she belongs. “It’s alright.” He says. He can only speculate at what, and more than likely who, has dragged her so low, but the time for questions will come later. First there is an angel in his arms, who won’t look him in the eye for shame, afraid he’ll see her tears and realize that she is not the courageously independent woman he believes her to be. But Jack learned long ago, from that same angel that stood before him now, there is no shame in seeking strength from someone else when you have none left to give. He will remind her of that as well, in time, but first he’ll kiss her forehead, and take her hand and lead her someplace safe.

The basement of Medda’s theatre, a favorite semi-private place of theirs, and one look from Jack is enough to ensure they won’t be disturbed. Katherine hasn’t spoken a word, nor has she loosened her grip on his hand, afraid to be left adrift in this maelstrom she knew would one day come. There’s a set piece they’ve covered in old costumes and quilts before, and it serves as a sofa for them to take refuge on in the sea of objects beneath the stage. The moment they’re settled Katherine is back in his arms, curled against him, afraid even a moment apart is a waste of precious little time they have left.

He knows her fear, it’s one they share, and today it is his turn to be strong. He bites back his rage at her father, because she does not need his anger here. He buries that feeling deep within in, letting it’s fury radiate instead into warmth, to safety, to comfort.

“It’s alright,” he says for convention. “I’m right here,” he says for security. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere,” he says because it’s true. He weaves his fingers through her curls, a gesture as comforting for himself as it is for her, waiting for her to be ready to talk.

It takes her time to find words again, and selfishly she wants to simply stay hidden here, knowing Jack would stay vigilante all night if she asked him to. She draws back only enough to see his face, a small irrational part of her expecting exhaustion, or at the very least disinterest in his face.

But this is Jack Kelly, and his sweetheart has just spent nearly an hour hurting too much to do more than cry and the last thing he would do would be dismiss her that way. He brushes his thumb across her cheeks, wiping tears from her eyes and leaving the ghost of a kiss against her cheek. He still has one hand laced tightly with hers, and opposite arm resting lightly on her waist, a presence but not a possession, just one more silent reminder that he’s here to protect her, from anything, she’s not alone.

“I know that people talk,” she begins hesitantly. “about me, about us, and I know he doesn’t approve. And I want to tell him that I’m not one of his employees that he can’t just shout at me until I do what he wants. I’m not who you think I am Jack. I’m scared to death of him, and of people talking, and this, and I can ignore so much of his cruelty when it’s all based on lies but he’s right. I can’t keep my life up like this, I can’t keep sneaking around in alleys and basements hoping we aren’t seen together. I’m not a child anymore, I can’t keep being with you because my whether I want it to or not my future depends on who I marry. This is the world we live in and I can’t change that, I can fight all I want to and write a hundred articles and I won’t be able to change it.”

Jack swallows hard, hoping to whoever’s listening this ain’t gonna end how he thinks it’s gonna. “If you want this to be over-“  


“No!” She cuts him off quickly, reflexes triggered by fear. “Jack, I-“ She stops.

“Whatever it is sweetheart, just tell me.”  


“I love you. I don’t ever want to stop loving you. But I don’t know how much longer I can go on pretending we aren’t growing up.” She’s dangerously close to losing her composure again, and is avoiding his gaze, because she is sure this is the moment he walks away.

“Katherine,” he says, “Katherine look at me.” She does, because how could she leave him alone when his voice broke that way. “I ain’t gonna ask you to marry me,” and now it’s her turn to have her heart stop. “Because I ain’t gonna do something that important like this. I ain’t starting our future on you scared to go home and face your father.” He takes his hand from hers to frame her face in both of his.

“I promise you though sweetheart, I’m gonna ask you one day.” Now the tears she’s held at bay are falling, and she’s too shocked to try and stop them. “When I ask you to marry me, we’re gonna have spent the day together, we’re gonna be so disgustingly happy I ain’t gonna be able to show my face around the boys for a week. It ain’t gonna be easy, and folks are gonna keep talkin’, and you an’ I both know your father ain’t gonna like it. But there ain’t a bit of all that I wouldn’t go through so long as I had you by my side. So I’m askin’ you to trust me, cause I ain’t gonna leave you to do any a this alone.”

Like that they’re together, her lips on his, the taste of salt on both their tongues from the tears in their eyes, and when he lifts her up off the bench, spinning her until they’re both dizzy, passion dissolving into laughter, relief as tangible as a change in the air, he’s sure they ain’t never coming down. 


End file.
